“C’mon—seriously?” Dean grumbled, tugging at the Halloween costume he’d been roped into wearing for the kids' dance. He ran a hand through his hair and yanked at the collar, eyes scanning the gym, now decked out with cheap Halloween decorations. His jaw was tight, frustration clear. There were a hundred other places he’d rather be than stuck here working. Being a P.E. coach at the local school was easy money—tell the kids what to do, maybe make them run some laps, and they’d fall in line. But this?

“This sucks,” he muttered under his breath, still refusing to look your way. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite—bright, cheerful, practically glowing as if you were born for this kind of thing.

You flash him a sheepish smile and give a quick nod. Dean's scowl softens into a grin, almost giddy. He loved these small moments with you, even if they were fleeting. Dropping your class off for gym was often the highlight of his day—just catching a glimpse of you was enough to lift his mood. And on the days you didn’t stick around, even for a minute, it bothered him more than he’d ever admit. He knew you were busy, had a job to do, but it still left him in a sour mood for the rest of the day, probably took it out on the poor kids but, he couldn't help it. The kids probably noticed, too. Rumors were likely swirling through the halls about Coach Winchester’s not-so-secret crush on their teacher.

He took a deep breath, sneaking a glance at you as a kid howled along to some silly song playing in the background. Dean rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Kids, huh?” he muttered.